


Fairy Wiles

by ContreParry



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Melancholy, Opal looks for a protege and finds a grandson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22727992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContreParry/pseuds/ContreParry
Summary: What do the Fair Folk do with the abandoned and the lost? Take them in, take them in, take them in.A story about legacies, love, and light kidnapping.
Relationships: Beet | Bede & Poplar | Opal
Comments: 19
Kudos: 118





	Fairy Wiles

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written a fic in the Pokemon fandom before, but Sword and Shield inspired me to dip my oar into these waters. The idea may have run away from me a bit.

The fae were not to be trifled with. They walked in the twilight, in the in-between places, and they did not suffer fools lightly. Walk their paths if you must, speak with them if you dare, but do not trick the tricksters, the wily ones, the Fair Folk, for it would turn as bad as bad could be for you. The Fair Folk played tricks, you see, and it was for humans to uncover and avoid their traps as they played their little games. From riddles to fairy rings to changelings, fairies always played games with rules that were beyond mortal knowledge. Never underestimate a fairy’s wiles.

Opal often wondered if the Fair Folk played a trick on her when she took her mother’s place as gym leader of Ballonlea. She was young, and she took over in a time of chaos. War, crop failures, drought, food shortages, sickness, death, rations- it was a dark, cruel time, and all of Galar (perhaps, all of the world) was looking for a bit of whimsy, a bit of lightness, a bit of glamour and beauty and sweetness to combat the days that lay behind and ahead. Opal, an established actress looking for yet another stage to conquer, rose to prominence with her fairy pokemon. The world needed fairy tales, and Opal would give them their tales of magic and wonder, of sweetness and light. Opal loved her time under the hot stage lights. She relished the loud cheers of the crowd as they begged for more. She thrived under those conditions, and her reign was long and prosperous for herself, for Ballonlea, for all of Galar.

It was only with the passage of time that Opal remembered that fairies could be cruel in their games. Fairies were ageless and ethereal. Mortals were not. Opal poured her life, her very soul, into Ballonlea. She and her Pokemon brought the world joy, but their rule could not last. Her mother had Opal to take her place when her time came, but Opal... well. There was only so much time for mortals, and she gave all of her years to Ballonlea with no thought of what would happen to her town when she was gone. Well, she reasoned with the grim determination that saw her through good times and bad all these years. There was nothing else to be done. She would have to find an apprentice.

There was plenty of time, she assured herself as she began her search. She was healthy and had plenty of life left in her. She only had to find someone who was worthy of taking her place. She would seek out a trainer with the strength and determination and cleverness that one needed to master fairy types and all their tricks. It took willpower and a flair for the dramatic that was hard to find, but with so many young people coming through Ballonlea to participate in the Champion’s Challenge it wouldn’t be hard to find someone with the qualities it took to be a gym leader.

Ah, what a fool she was to fall for another grim trick played by the Fair Folk. Finding a successor was a trial that tasked her infinite patience. Even the old could be foolish, Opal supposed, but she would have never thought that she would have her foolishness thrown in her face for the past decade! One was never too old to learn some humility, but Opal felt that she ate enough Murkrow to feed an army.

It wasn’t that no challenger was skilled enough, bless them. Plenty of viable candidates stood on the stage before her. The current Champion was brutally efficient, full of the confidence and flair a gym leader required, and yet Opal could see the fire in those golden eyes and knew that Leon would never be satisfied as a mere gym leader when he could be Galar’s Champion. Raihan was much the same, but he also was unable to stand still and listen, a key skill to have when working with the fairies. Nessa was devoted to her water types and often leaped well before looking (the Fair Folk would always take advantage of her lack of focus). Sonia lacked confidence, and her heart was never in the battles. Milo was too soft, too tender hearted for the drama her gym and the fairies demanded. Gordie would obviously take over after his mother retired, and he and the fairies did not suit. Bea and Allister were already devoted to their fighting and ghost types and had their own gym they traded control of. Such a shame, that. Opal was tempted, ever so tempted, to apprentice Allister, but he had already found his place in the world (and he would never wear pink, a pity).

The closest she came to finding her apprentice was when Piers came through with Leon and his peers (such a talented group that year). It was a bit of a shock, but the sullen young man from Spikemuth had the willpower (his refusal to Dynamax was proof enough), the determination, the sense of drama a fairy type trainer needed to succeed. He was practically perfect for the role. He was made for the spotlight, and yet she held back. Just as well, Opal acknowledged. Piers had really come into his own as the gym leader of Spikemuth, and he fit better as a dark-type Pokemon trainer than fairy. They made a good contrast, her light-filled gym versus his dark, her forest of bio-luminescent flora versus his iron fortress of neon signs. And he wore pink, made the bright, bold color sharp and dangerous- talented boy, that Piers. He would have made a fine successor, but he was doing well enough in Spikemuth.

Ten years. No apprentices. Opal was close to giving up. The Fair Folk must be laughing at her from their hidden places in the tangle, pleased with having played such a good joke. Perhaps her standards were too high. Perhaps she was looking for a successor in all the wrong places. Perhaps she was looking for the wrong sort of person- the world was forever changing, and perhaps she ought to change her approach. 

One more year, Opal told herself. One more crop of challengers, and if she failed to find an apprentice this time around she would do what every great actor did and improvise. Come what may, Opal would have her apprentice. Fairies may not worry about legacies, but she did. What she built here would not go to waste. Ballonlea would not be swallowed up by the Glimwood Tangle. It would not become an oddity, an antique, a relic of a bygone era of fairy tales and fluff. 

She watched the new challengers with greedy eyes as they took the pitch, looking over the faces and noting the ones that stood out to her. There was a solemn faced girl whose green blue eyes were strangely familiar. The bright eyed little brother of the champion beamed at the camera and waved. Next to him stood his quiet friend with the big brown eyes and nervous grin. Both of them were the Champion’s sponsored trainers, and they stood together like a burning sun and cool moon on the field. Then there was the chairman’s pick, a boy with hair like silver spun fairy floss and a slightly pinched expression on his narrow, fox-like face. An interesting crop, Opal thought. She would see how they did, and hope for one last time that they had the spark that the others lacked.

The solemn girl, Marnie, ended up being Piers’ little sister. She was as serious and tough as her older brother, but far more reserved. There was a bit of Spikemuth’s iron core in her, too, something that anchored her to the tiny, resilient town. She would never abandon it for another, Opal thought with some disappointment as she sent her on her way. The girl looked good in pink.

Leon’s younger brother shared his flash and drive, it was true, but Opal sensed that there was a bit of restlessness and uncertainty lurking under the bold smile. Hop eagerly followed in his brother’s footsteps, but he didn’t seem to know how to step out of that lengthy shadow and follow his own path. Until he could do that he would only be a good trainer, and not a great one. Opal might be able to train up a successor, but she couldn’t drag Hop out of his brother’s shadow if he didn’t want to be dragged out of there.

Gloria, though… she should have been perfect. Everything was there: the willfulness, the strong bonds between trainer and Pokémon, the slightly cheeky, perceptive answers to her questions, the way she took to the spotlight- it wasn’t perfect, but it was a solid foundation. Opal could work with her and mold her into exactly what Ballonlea needed. She should have been perfect, and yet… well, there was something missing, something that just wasn’t right. Just like Allister, just like Piers, just like Marnie, Gloria wasn’t the one. It hurt to tell the girl (a surprise, that), though she said it as gently as she could manage. Personal preferences, my dear. You must understand. Gloria didn’t take it hard, thank goodness, and even offered to escort her down to Hammerlocke. Good girl, that Gloria, well-mannered and well-spoken. She really would have been a great heir, Opal thought sadly as they sat down together for a nice luncheon on the outskirts of Stowe-in-Side under the shadows of the ancient ruins that surrounded the town.

Gloria pointed to the latest archaeological discovery that the mural once covered. Opal wondered if these ruins were uncovered in an earthquake, but Gloria was quick to enlighten her. She spun a tale of a bitter rivalry, a boy who sounded desperate for approval, a hasty battle, and the sudden arrival that seemed to settle the dispute. Gloria, however, didn’t seem satisfied with the results.

“Begging your pardon, Ms. Opal, but it… it wasn’t fair, you see? Bede did wrong, but he was doing it because Chairman Rose _set_ him to it,” Gloria confided over a bowl of curry she cooked up at her camp. “It isn’t right, is what I mean.”

“And what would have made it right in your mind, child?” Opal asked. Bede, the Chairman’s sponsored trainer this year… Opal recalled the pale hair, the skinny frame, the sullen scowl and shadowed eyes. A disagreeable young fellow, by all accounts, but even ill-tempered people should be treated fairly.

“I… I don’t rightly know, Ms. Opal. An apology wouldn’t hurt. Bede ought to apologize for what he did, but I know it’s not fair to kick him out when the Chairman _told_ him to go out and find wishing stars- though it doesn’t make sense that there’d be wishing stars behind a mural, but he was so certain…” Gloria mused, and her little Yamper took a nibble out of her curry bowl while she pondered Opal’s question. Opal dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and waited, but as Gloria hadn’t come up with an answer Opal decided it was time to move on.

“An apology is a fine thing to begin with. The problem is that one must _mean_ it. Now, shall we continue our stroll? Hammerlocke is only just down the road, and I would like to make it there before nightfall.” She had to speak with Raihan, the cheeky boy, and if she didn’t make her entrance soon he would set off to look for her. He always did fancy himself a bit of a knight in shining armor, silly lad. No doubt he would enjoy coming to her rescue once she admitted to him that she had no potential heirs to her gym and that she was desperate for advice. He had all sorts of connections- if anyone could help Opal in her search, it would be Raihan.

She and Gloria reached Hammerlocke well before nightfall, and Opal sent Gloria off with a wave of her hand. The girl dashed away to gaze into shop windows, her big brown eyes full of delight and wonder as she cooed over the latest fashions. Ah, to be young. Opal promenaded down the sidewalk towards the gym- if Raihan could be found anywhere in Hammerlocke it would be there. As she rounded the corner past the Poké Center she overheard raised voices and lingered back. It was hardly eavesdropping when they were being so loud, after all.

“-can you really afford to waste time like this?” The boy who spoke sounded haughty, each word a precise, clipped, sharp sound out of his mouth. 

“No, not really, but Bede-“ And that was Gloria, the lilt in her voice now a familiar song in Opal’s head.

“I commend your humility. It is appropriate for a Trainer of your… limited talents,” Ah, that condescension masked a good deal of hurt. Opal was all too familiar with hiding pain under a stiff upper lip. As Bede declared that he would not give up and he’d ask the Chairman to reconsider and reinstate him, Opal casually strolled out into the open. She would have a look at this Bede, this boy whose voice gave him away no matter how rude his words were. She looked over at Gloria in her great big knitted cardigan, then looked past her to-

Pink.

Pink.

PINK!

The magenta coat was bright, the polyester fabric gleaming like armor in the sunlight. Fuchsine, Opal thought. Her great-grandmother had a gown that was the exact same shade of pink. Opal remembered how Great-Grandmother Meg would point at the grainy black and white photograph and explain that her walking dress was the brightest shade of fuchsine she could purchase at the time.

“It was a brand new color, fuchsine- now you can find it at any shop, but when I was a young woman? It was the thing to have! You catch everyone’s eye when you’re wearing something bright like that, Opal dear,” Great Grandmother informed her. That magenta coat, like Great-Grandmother Meg’s fuchsine walking dress, drew everyone’s eyes to the boy as he stood in the middle of the road and glowered at Gloria. 

Rude, difficult, fully capable of cruelty, and relentless in his pursuit for glory without thinking of the consequences- everything Opal heard about Bede was fully on display. Here he was, lashing out at Gloria for getting kicked out of the challenge, venom pouring from every word. He was a boy sorely in need of a talking to. He was a poor sport and exactly the opposite of what a Pokemon trainer ought to be. She ought to step back right now. She ought to continue her search for an apprentice- Raihan would help her, she knew he would. And yet...

There was something in the ferocity of his bearing and the hurt in those narrowed eyes that spoke to Opal. Pink. He was bold, daring, and confident enough to have all eyes on him. Thirsty for the attention, Opal mused. This Bede was clearly begging for a spotlight and would do anything for it- even, Opal sniffed, follow the whims and mysterious dictates of Chairman Rose and his assistant Oleana. 

Well, Opal decided as she descended upon the two young trainers like a Corviknight coming to roost at dusk. She would offer Bede the spotlight he so desperately craved. If he survived her training, he might just be worthy of it. She watched as those narrowed eyes in that pale, pinched face flickered in a dozen emotions- surprise, alarm, skepticism, uncertainty, then, for one brief moment, hope that solidified into raw determination.

Yes, Opal thought as she made her way down the street, Bede two steps behind her. She would apologize to Raihan later. Right now she had an apprentice to train. 

“Bede,” Opal said, and she watched as Bede tensed like a wounded Pidgey. They sat in silence across from each other in the Corviknight cab, and Bede had looked at everything- the floor, his shoes, his lap, outside the window- everything but at her. That nonsense would end now, Opal decided. If Bede was going to be her apprentice, he would sit up straight and look her in the eye.

“Yes, Ma’am?” Bede replied politely enough. He still wouldn’t look up, and he was still tense. Waiting. His pale face still held that pinched expression that wavered between sulking and scared but trying to hide it, and he kept fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, worrying the polyester fabric between his fingers.

“As I plan to train you to take my place, we must sort out your accommodations. My guest room has done nothing but collect dust since before you were born, but that is easily remedied. As for your clothes, there are plenty of spare uniforms. We will undoubtedly find one that fits you. What sort of food do you like?” Opal asked.

“... I’m not picky, Ms. Opal,” Bede replied. He was touching the large watch around his wrist, fumbling with it slightly. It was big and gold and heavy, with a half-dozen little dials and buttons and separate clocks in the clock face, and it looked wrong on that bony wrist. Like a manacle. An expensive, gaudy manacle. Morbid, Opal thought as she suppressed a shudder. She had always had a morbid imagination.

“When I ask a question I prefer an answer, Bede. Shall we try again?” Opal asked crisply.

“... cheese and toast. Stew. Froakie-in-the-hole,” Bede mumbled. “I’m not picky. I don’t require much.”

“Require and like are two different things, Bede. I require food to live, but I like a good Wedgehurst tart. Not that one can live on jam and shortcrust pastry alone,” Opal sighed when she took in the slightly puzzled, apprehensive expression written on her new charge’s face. Not used to jesting or light teasing, this Bede. 

Teaching him would be a test of her patience, wouldn’t it? The boy in front of her was tense and almost frightened of his own shadow, as if he had lost all the spirit and snark that characterized his previous conversation with Gloria. That ferocious boy was all but gone, and all that remained was a pale ghost who was even more washed out by his fuschine coat. Was he broken? It had been some time since she had been around children beyond a Pokemon battle. Did she damage this boy in some irreparable way?

“This has been an eventful day for us both,” Opal said, burying her fears under brusque practicality. Bede’s muttered response (“You’re telling me!”) was music to her ears. Sarcasm. Good.

She could work with that.

Bede was settled into her sparse guest bedroom with no fuss, having returned to his sullen silence. It was no good trying to draw the boy into conversation, though Opal prodded and talked as he set his bag down on the seat of a heavily polished wood chair. 

“Shall I have someone send for some of your things down to Ballonlea?” Opal asked. What was it that teenage boys needed? She had a vague notion that he would want posters and other knickknacks and curios- she had always collected bits and bobs when she was a girl. Surely boys were the same! No doubt Bede had a collection of items he wanted while he was here, and if she was truly going to train him it would be remiss of her to not ensure that he felt comfortable and at home.

“I have everything I need with me, Ms. Opal,” Bede replied quietly, still looking at the room. The careful way he said that, the sense of resignation, the purposefully blank look on his pale face- Opal knew the look all too well. She’d made it often enough when she was young when her mother offered to buy her a treat. Just a little something sweet for a sweet girl, she’d say, but Opal knew (Opal always knew) how short on money they were. Chocolates and sugar were in short supply anyways, and they needed the money for more important things- so Opal always declined. She made do. Opal recognized like, and she knew Bede was measuring costs and benefits, needs and wants, to save face. He may want coddling and kindnesses, chocolates and sweets, but the cost, the _cost_ of admitting that much! What sort of life did Bede live, where a camping bag and solitude was enough? A little disturbed by the dark answers that question suggested (a morbid mind, she had always had a morbid mind), Opal tried another approach.

“Is there anything you need?” she asked, emphasizing the ‘you.’ Bede’s expression shifted as the narrow line of his mouth turned into a mulish frown.

“No, Ms. Opal,” Bede replied.

“We’ll find a uniform tomorrow and then put you through your paces,” Opal said firmly. “Dinner is at half past six. I’ll let you settle in.”

Bede said nothing, only shook his head and shrugged as he took in the decor: the wallpaper with its thick stripes of alternating cream and rose pink, the solid oak floors with the sun-faded rug with the rose and lily print, the crisply starched white cotton sheets neatly laid out on the plump mattress, the pink quilt that hung over the brass bed frame, the lacy curtains yellowed with age. The entire room was clean and polished and starched within an inch of its life, and was probably the exact opposite of what a modern teenage boy would appreciate. Yet there were no complaints, no sneering, no disdain in those eyes. There was only something that looked a little like curiosity, and that was encouraging.

Opal left him in the guest room (Bede’s room now, she supposed). She urged him to put his things away and make himself comfortable before making her way downstairs to the parlor. Alcremie was curled up for an afternoon nap on her plush cushion. When Opal settled into her wingback armchair upholstered in lavender colored velvet, Alcremie opened one of her eyes and fixed her with her glacé cherry red stare.

“He is… a work in progress. We will see what tomorrow brings,” Opal informed her Pokémon, who closed her eye and went back to her nap. 

It was while Opal was cooking dinner (a hearty shepherd’s pie and green beans, that boy was too skinny) that a revelation hit her like a thunderbolt: she was just like the fairies in bedtime stories. She had just _kidnapped_ a boy! Perhaps it was kidnapping with a few more steps between. The boy voluntarily came away with her, he was already striking out on his own for the Gym Challenge, and he was going to be her apprentice! Yet no matter how many steps and clarifications she gave, it all came down to a simple conclusion: she had snatched a boy off the streets and whisked him off to her forest home, just like the Fair Folk taking people to their Fairy Forts. The Fair Folk had their own laws and reasons, as always, but she was a human who lived in the mundane world, and in that world kidnapping was simply not done.

“It is only a bit of light kidnapping,” Opal informed Alcremie. “And it is hardly a crime, given the current situation. I’ll inform the proper people in the morning.”

Alcremie trilled in response before lightly slapping Opal’s hands away from the trifle she was preparing. Her Alcremie had always enjoyed helping around the kitchen, and she layered the delicate sponge cake and whipped cream with generous heaps of cut roseli berries and fancy apples. Opal chuckled and returned to fiddling with the oven knobs. Kabu insisted on replacing her reliable stove several years ago (“That monstrosity is older than me! It could catch fire at any moment!”), and this newfangled machine was a frustrating beast to manage at the best of times. She knew her old oven better than this gleaming chrome monstrosity, but try convincing Kabu of that!

Opal heard the dull thud of footsteps overhead, and as she popped the pie into the oven the footsteps descended the stairs. The footsteps stopped the moment they hit the fifth step down and the wood squeaked loudly. Then the steps started again, softer and more cautious. Opal grinned. She had always meant to fix that noisy stair, always meant to have someone come in and see to it, but with a teenager in the house the creaking might end up being useful. A teenager! Opal chuckled and put the kettle on the burner for a cup of tea. She had intended to have an apprentice for nearly ten years, but the reality that she had one was still a bit of a shock.

“This will be quite the adventure, won’t it?” Opal murmured as she measured tea leaves and set it in the Lapras shaped infuser Melony gifted her last year. An apprentice! After all this time, she finally had her apprentice!

It was time to set to work.

“What types are strong against Fairy Typing?” Opal asked over dinner as she neatly speared a green bean on her fork.

“Poison and Steel,” Bede replied automatically.

“What types have no effect on Fairy Types?” she questioned.

“Dragon,” Bede answered. Opal waited patiently, hoping to shake Bede’s confidence in his answer. He frowned and looked at her with a veiled disdain that only a teenager could manage. Still, Opal waited. She was no stranger to the baffled exasperated looks teenagers gave her, after all. She was quite unmoved.

“It’s only dragon, Ms. Opal. That’s the only type that has no effect on fairies,” Bede clarified.

“Very good, Bede,” Opal replied. Certainty was always a good trait when dealing with fairies. You had to be sure of yourself, but not so grounded that you were no longer playful.

“It is only a basic understanding of type advantages, Ms. Opal. It isn’t hard,” Bede retorted. “Are you testing me?”

“Only seeing how much we will need to go over,” Opal said. “As you know your type advantages already, and this is a fairy gym, we will have to develop a team for you.” It was a delicate subject to broach, of course. A team was an important thing to build, and asking a trainer, any trainer, to develop a brand new team, was a hard thing to ask. Bede’s expression shifted from annoyance to an absolute blank slate. He was shuttered, closed off, obviously debating something. Opal watched him and tried to guess what he was thinking. Mad old Woobat, has to be another test. 

“... very well. As long as I keep my Hattrem, I’ll work on building a fairy-centric team,” Bede said evenly. His voice wavered slightly, and he returned to his dinner in silence. 

Opal waited, fork hovering over her plate, and wondered if she should say something reassuring. These were a lot of changes to take in for anyone, she thought, and he was asking for so little in return. He only wanted to keep one Pokémon? That was his only requirement? He wasn’t asking for much, was he? She thought back to their previous conversation- I don’t need much, he said. She looked at him again, still wearing that fuschine armor and thick gold manacle that rattled around his wrist. I have everything I need, he insisted. He had his bag draped over the back of his chair as if he planned to make a quick egress.

He’s planning to run, Opal realized. He’s waiting for the trick, the catch, and he’s planning his escape for when that happens.

She shouldn’t pry. She should be patient. Everyone, especially the young, had their pride and their secrets. Opal wouldn't, couldn’t, pry open those layers just yet. The boy was raw and wounded and she would just chase him off if she pushed him too far and too fast. Bede needed building up in body and in spirit, and while she wouldn’t coddle him she could give him a steady foundation. She could provide him a place to grow. Well, Opal amended, she would try her best and that would have to do.

“Of course, Bede,” Opal replied gently, because honey caught more Cutieflies than vinegar. “You will build a fairy themed team, but most importantly you must build a _team_. That will be your greatest trial as my apprentice.” She set her fork down on her plate.

“Now, we’ll have a lovely bit of trifle that my Alcremie prepared for dessert, and afterwards we will go over your weekly schedule,” Opal announced brightly.

The schedule went something like this: weekdays were for training, and weekends were for Bede. Breakfast, lunch, teatime, and dinner were always available with Opal or with her trainees at the stadium (Annette and her sisters put on a lovely luncheon). Opal made sure Bede had a little pocket money if he wanted to scrounge up his own meals (independence was a good thing to foster), but more often than not he chose to eat with her and the other trainers. Bede woke up early, came back in time for dinner, and was wholly devoted to passing all of her tests. As the days and weeks passed, Opal pushed her apprentice hard, harder than she had ever pushed her trainers, because there was potential in Bede and she had to draw it out.

Mondays were devoted to the books- not just battle theory and lessons on Dynamaxing, but the very basics of running a Gym. There was a good deal to learn, even if Bede rolled his eyes when Opal drilled him on his basics. Yet she watched as she dropped papers and theories and books on his desk, and she watched as his eyes lit up with interest. Very pretty eyes, Opal noted, a lovely shade of lavender, and she left him to his studies as she worked through a needlepoint project and asked him a few questions on his reading.

“What do you think of Professor Sycamore’s theories on the relationship between Dynamaxing and mega-evolution, Bede?” she asked politely as she switched her pink floss to a shade of dusty rose. Bede wrinkled his nose and flipped a page.

“He cites a lot of Professor Magnolia’s work,” Bede replied after a moment. “And from old papers. This one report he quotes is nearly thirty years old!” He sounded appalled, and Opal had to smother a cackle- if he thought thirty was old, her near eighty years were positively ancient!

“Yes,” Opal agreed. “Professor Sycamore is known for his thorough citations.”

“Couldn’t he just come up with this on his own? There are similarities to mega-evolutions and Dynamaxing, I suppose, but couldn’t he do his own research on Dynamaxing instead of always quoting Magnolia?” Bede asked.

“We all stand on the shoulders of giants, Bede,” Opal said mildly. “Scientific theories aren’t just born in a vacuum. Or in a day. Professor Magnolia is the expert on Dynamaxing, while Sycamore is the known expert in mega-evolutions. I suppose you could consider this paper his first foray into the possibility that they are a connected phenomenon.” She didn’t add that the entire theory caused quite the stir when he revealed it at a conference, and she didn’t mention that Sycamore and Magnolia still participated in heated (though friendly) debates on the topic whenever they ran into each other. The important lesson Bede had to learn was teamwork. No man is an island.

“It’s… interesting,” Bede conceded. Progress.

“Teamwork and cooperation are an important part of life, Bede,” Opal replied. “Even in Pokémon research.” She returned to her cross stitch, and Bede continued to read, occasionally writing something down in a little notebook he pulled out from his coat pocket. He was still wearing it along with the watch, but Opal noted that he left his bag up in his room. Again, progress.

Tuesday was training day, full of mock battles and testing team combinations. Opal was pleased to discover that Bede had a Ponyta as well as his Hattrem, a solid basis for a fairy team. Fairy and Psychic was a good combination. Bede was clever and vicious in his battles, and while his Ponyta was a little skittish he was clearly eager to please and adored Bede.

“He’s new,” Bede said defensively as his Ponyta raced around the perimeter of the stadium, his  
fluffy hair streaming behind him like a rainbow. “He just needs some time to adjust.”

“And we’ll give him that,” Opal promised, pleased that Bede was ready to defend his team from perceived slights. We’ll give _you_ that, she thought as Bede whistled for Ponyta to come back to him.

Wednesday was a field day out in Ballonlea. Opal showed Bede the town, the best places to shop, and the secret places that only the locals knew. She took him to a playground for Pokémon and children. There they watched Bede's team- including his ‘retired’ Duosion and Gothorita- hop and frolic among the play structures.

“My mother had this park built after the war,” Opal said abruptly. “Used to be some old codger’s manor house, but it was abandoned when he moved to Wyndon. Mother bought the place and tore it down. Then she made this.” It cost a pretty penny, too. Mother tightened her already tight belt to pay for the expenses, but by then Opal had her paychecks from acting in bit parts so she helped where she could.

“Why?” Bede asked quietly, watching as his Ponyta trotted around the merry-go-round with his Duosion.

“The children needed a place to play, as did the pokémon. And the adults… they needed to remember that there was a time for play and laughter,” Opal mused. Bede seemed satisfied by this answer, and continued to watch his team play. 

Thursday was, again, another day of book learning interspersed with pop quizzes.

“Favorite color, Bede?” Opal asked, couching her question after a series of questions on fairy move sets.

“Mine or yours?” Bede retorted promptly, and Opal cackled with delight and set her cross-stitch down on the sofa. He had his coat draped across the back of his chair, and was wearing his uniform now. The pale pinks and blues suited him, made him look a little softer and sweeter. The boy still had a bite to him, however, and Opal found that little bit of sarcasm delightful.

“Very cheeky. Yours,” Opal replied.

“... I like purple. Dark purple,” Bede admitted sullenly as he reached for another book in his stack of reading (Galarian Legends, Part II). He complained about the ridiculous reading assignments and random quizzes, but Opal noted that Bede always did them even as he derided them as ridiculous.

“I prefer violet myself,” Opal said. “Now, what sort of Gym Challenge would you propose for new challengers? I can hardly search for new apprentices when I already have one!”

Bede’s cheeks were awash with pink as he carefully turned the page of his book.

“I hardly know, Ms. Opal. I haven’t thought about it,” he said carefully. Opal huffed and picked up her cross stitch again. No use demanding he come up with something on the spot. Perfection didn’t come from desperation, after all. A gym was not built in a day.

“Do think on it. I believe it will be a fine project for you to work on as we prepare for your debut,” Opal replied. Bede shrugged his shoulders and continued to read, and Opal returned to her cross stitch pattern, sorting out the similar shades of pink until she found just the right one.

Friday was reserved for walking the Glimwood Tangle and building Bede’s team. Fairies were  
wily, after all, so it took several walks in the forest before Bede caught his lovely Kirlia. Yet even after he caught his team, Opal maintained that Fridays were dedicated to exploring the forests around Ballonlea.

“Shouldn’t I spend the extra time working with my team in battles?” Bede asked when he returned from another day in the forest. His Hattrem bobbled next to him and lightly slapped her pigtail against his calves, which he politely ignored.

“We can come back to that later,” Opal said politely before gesturing towards the kitchen table and the spread of biscuits she lay out. “Tea?”

Bede flopped into the chair and took a biscuit. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, though the watch remained around his wrist. Some things were hard to leave behind, Opal supposed.

“If you need a box to keep that in, I can scrounge one up from the attic,” Opal offered, gesturing towards the watch with a jab of her hand. Bede stiffened and jerked his hand off the table.

“No,” he said abruptly, and winced when his Hattrem gave a shrill, disapproving cry.

“No, thank you,” Bede amended, and he spared Hattrem a smile, private smile. His sharp face went soft when he smiled, Opal thought. She could count the times she saw Bede smile on one gnarled hand, and they were all for his pokemon. The sight still warmed her heart. She hid her smile in her teacup when he split a ginger biscuit with Hattrem. He could be sweet when he wanted to be. He was sweet when it mattered, infinitely patient and kind to his pokemon. But a gym leader couldn’t work with pokemon alone. It was time to push Bede further along in his training, and this… this would be difficult.

“Suit yourself. The offer remains,” Opal replied. “Now, Bede. We have to discuss Stowe-on-Side.”

She was prepared to give Bede a lecture. She was prepared to have a hard conversation. Opal was not prepared for Bede’s reaction. The ease of the previous moments was shattered. His pale skin went white, and he was as still as an Eevee hiding in the tall grass. Right now Bede looked more like a stone statue than a breathing boy, and part of her wished she could take the words back and have a lovely afternoon tea. That wouldn’t help matters at all, though. Opal knew he wouldn’t be happy to talk about reparations and apologies, she knew it the moment she took him in as her protege. Bede was a proud young man and he didn’t like looking weak and unsure. She had never expected him to freeze in place! Well, there was nothing to be done but keep going down the path she made for herself.

“The destruction of the mural is a loss for the art community,” Opal lied through her teeth. That horrid mural was the tackiest thing she had ever beheld, and it covered an archaeological marvel of Galar’s ancient age! However, property destruction wasn’t a done thing, and what sort of mentor would she be if she didn’t urge Bede to humble himself and apologize? A poor one, Opal concluded. A weak mentor let their pupil take the fall, skipped away from the consequences their leadership brought about- Bede had been failed before. Opal wouldn’t fail this boy now.

“I believe the best thing you can do is apologize,” Opal continued, and she set her teacup down on its saucer. “And explain yourself. Allister and Bea are reasonable, and deserve an apology for the chaos you caused.” Stern, but fair. She had to be stern, but fair, even as she watched the boy she was training shrink into himself further until he was the same boy in the Corvicab, huddled in his fuschine coat refusing to meet her gaze.

“I- I had my reasons,” Bede muttered. “And I won’t apologize for them.”

“In that case, it isn’t a true apology, is it? You’re only sorry for the consequences and not the actions you took,” Opal stated coolly.

“Then I’m not sorry,” Bede retorted. “I’m not sorry at all.”

“You won’t advance far in your training with that attitude,” Opal pointed out, and Bede scowled at his teacup and half a ginger biscuit.

“... I no longer have an appetite,” Bede announced, standing up from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, Ms. Opal.” Of course, he didn’t wait for her permission to depart. Bede practically fled the room. Moments later Opal heard the front door slam closed. Opal sighed and lifted her tea cup as Hattrem trilled anxiously and gazed out of the kitchen and into the parlor.

“Well, that went as well as expected, didn’t it?” Opal asked her. Hattrem’s little wail of confusion broke her heart. She hesitated for a moment. The boy needed time to work through his thoughts, and pursuing him would only make him run. One didn’t chase a frightened Eevee, after all. And yet… well, he was her apprentice, and she was his mentor. She’d be a poor mentor if she didn’t chase down and speak with her wayward apprentice. Opal set her teacup down and rose from the table.

“Well, Hattrem, let us go and find the boy before he gets himself lost in the Tangle,” she said, and with Hattrem bouncing along in front of her and Alcremie by her side, Opal left her house to track down Bede.

The Glimwood Tangle was a maze of darkness and light, a trickster’s paradise of dead-ends and turns that twisted you around until you no longer knew north from south or up from down. But Opal was born and raised in Ballonlea, in the heart of the Tangle itself, and she knew its secrets. With Hattrem and Alcremie as company, it was a pleasant, quiet trip through the wilderness. Every once in a while Hattrem would stop and cock her head to the side as if she was listening for her trainer. Then she would resume her walk down the trails. Opal followed sedately, tapping the occasional mushroom to light their way.

“He’s ventured deep into the Tangle,” Opal remarked. “I hope he hasn’t run into trouble.” Bede was self-sufficient, she knew that, but the Tangle was tricky. It had a mind of its own. Anyone could get lost, especially a boy who wasn’t used to the terrain and desperate to run away from everything. There was a reason there were only a few well trodden paths that people took when they traveled Glimwood Tangle: those were the reliable roads. Bede had gone off the beaten path, and now… Opal grimaced and picked up her pace. Bede was self-sufficient, but she would simply feel better once she saw that he was well with her own two eyes. Opal dug the tip of her umbrella into the dirt and hoisted herself over a tree root that Hattrem and Alcremie scrambled under.

“Not a young woman anymore,” Opal huffed to herself. “But it’s a fine afternoon for a walk.” Based on Hattrem’s anxious little head bobbles, she was fairly certain Bede was close by and in some distress. As they rounded a crook in the path Hattrem took off, trilling and chirping as she raced into the perpetual twilight of the Tangle. As Opal followed, she saw the faint glow of mushrooms ahead and heard the babbling of a brook. In the light of the mushrooms and the faint glow of Ponyta’s mane, Opal caught sight of Bede’s pale fairy floss hair. She breathed out a quiet sigh of relief- safe. He was safe, and that was what mattered. She waited in the shadows as Hattrem barreled into the clearing surrounded by mushrooms. Bede was sitting on a log near the brook, and he nearly fell into the water when Hattrem launched herself up into his arms.

“Hattrem! What’s- oh. I’m sorry, Hattie, didn’t mean to distress you,” Bede’s voice turned soft and sweet as he crooned at her. “I’m fine, Ponyta’s been keeping an eye on me, same with Kirlia. But I was going to come back for you, of course I was. We’re not leaving each other, ever.” The ferocity in his promise was- well. _Well_. Bede continued to talk to his Hattrem, voice barely audible over the trickle of water over the rocks and the whistle of the wind through the trees.

“It doesn’t matter what happens next, if she kicks us out. We’ll find a way to the Championship. We all will,” Bede promised. “And I’m stronger than before. We can beat everyone, we can show the Chairman that he was right when he picked us.” Hattrem cooed up at him and lightly slapped his arm with her pigtail. Bede smiled, the sort of smile that lit up his face like an angel. It only lasted for a moment before his expression fell into its usual grimace, but for those scant seconds Bede looked happy.

He hadn’t ever looked happy before.

“We’ll… we’ll have to apologize,” Bede said grimly. “She’ll probably make us grovel and answer more awful questions. Maybe from an etiquette book.”

Hattrem trilled. Bede rolled his eyes.

“No, I like her too. She’s absolutely mad, taking us in, but I can… she knows what she’s talking about, at least,” he decided. “If she’ll have us, we’ll keep training under her.”

“Good to hear,” Opal said as she approached. “A good apprentice is hard to find. Believe me, I know.” The sudden wariness in Bede’s expression gave her pause, but Opal was never a coward.

“May I join you?” Opal asked politely.

“... fine,” Bede acquiesced. Opal settled on the end of the log, giving Bede space. He held Hattrem closer as his Ponyta and Kirlia settled at his feet. Such a short time, Opal mused, and he had already inspired so much loyalty in his team. He was already talented, she knew this, but one day Bede could be brilliant.

“She was worried for you, the dear,” Opal said, gesturing towards Hattrem. “You have a strong bond.”

“I found her back- back when I was a kid,” Bede replied. “We needed each other.” He looked otherworldly in the half-light of the luminescent mushrooms, a strange mix of soft hair and sharp features and eyes that were too old in that young face. Fairies were like that, Opal thought, youthful and ancient, a mix of contradictions, of light and dark until they were something that was both human and completely alien. The Fae… Bede shared quite a few qualities with the fairy types he now worked with.

Fair Folk. Tricks. Traps. The fae are not to be trifled with. They walk in the twilight, in the in-between places, and they do not suffer fools. Opal, however, was not a fool. She was a gym leader with an apprentice, and come what may she would help this boy grow and shine.

“You aren’t used to apologizing, are you?” Opal asked.

“I try not to do anything I need to apologize for, Ms. Opal,” Bede murmured. “But I am sorry for running off.”

“I accept your apology, though you were perfectly polite. A little hasty, perhaps, but polite. And besides that, everyone makes mistakes, or does something wrong,” Opal said gently. “It is a part of growing up, Bede.”

“Not me. I can’t- I don’t make mistakes,” Bede insisted, and Opal ignored the way Bede’s hand curled into Ponyta’s mane for comfort.

“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here,” she reasoned, and when Bede didn’t reply she turned towards him and continued to speak.

“You have talent and determination, Bede. If that was all that was needed to be a Champion, Raihan would have beaten Leon several times over, wouldn’t he? Nessa would have her Championship, as would Kabu and- goodness, all of us would have beaten Leon by now, if talent and determination were the only measures of a Champion,” Opal said with a chuckle. Bede looked puzzled, but as his grip on Ponyta’s mane loosened she had a hunch that he was listening.

“But we aren’t measured only by our successes, Bede. We are also measured and made by our failures,” she said. There! A bit improvised, but she believed she had made her point.

“So what does that mean for me?” Bede finally asked.

“We carry on as we have, don't we? Your goal is to return to the Championship circuit. My goal is to train you as my successor- and Bede, you have exactly what my gym needs in a leader. But that isn’t enough,” Opal explained.

“No?” Bede asked, and there was a horrible sense of bitter resignation in that word. Was he expecting to be thrown away again? He must be. What else could the boy possibly think? Opal sighed and folded her hands into her lap.

“No. Because someday it will not be my gym. It will be yours, and I won’t be there to make apologies or excuses for you. I can only give you the tools to guide you now,” Opal said, and she softened her voice. “And what you do with those tools is your choice. But I hope- I truly do hope, Bede, that you won’t isolate yourself from the world in your pursuit of perfection. It isn’t good for you.”

Opal was surprised at the anger that washed across Bede’s face at her words. The shame was already there: he was ashamed of losing his temper, ashamed of running out to sulk, ashamed that he had been found, ashamed that she saw him being soft- but the anger that he had towards basic kindness was still a surprise. Or was it? It reminded her of someone...

“I don’t need your pity, Ms. Opal,” Bede said icily, lifting his pointed chin and scowling fiercely. “I’m here to prove that I have what it takes to be a trainer and Gym leader, and that is it. I don’t care how long it takes, I _will_ show you that I’m more than good enough!”

Opal couldn’t help it. She laughed, a loud cackle that echoed through the forest. She knew that ferocious expression, that pride, that absolute rage at pity and platitudes- she knew that face because she saw it in her mirror for over eighty years. And suddenly her choice of Bede made just a little more sense- she saw potential there. She saw the vibrant pink, the desperate need to prove himself, the drive to be better, be the best- and she saw Bede. She saw the arrogance and the generosity, the aloofness and the need, and she saw the fierceness that ran in his core. Opal saw all of this in Bede and knew it because she saw it in herself.

And now she knew what to do to train him. She knew how to reach him. She could teach him!

“Pity? Bah, I don’t pity you, boy. You’re plenty capable of feeling sorry for yourself, and you won’t feel that way for long,” Opal said with amusement. “But a trainer with your potential, Bede? It would be a crime to let it all go to waste.”

“Ms. Opal?” Bede asked softly, as if stunned.

“I have spent ten years looking for an apprentice, and now that I have you I won’t be sending you away so easily,” Opal announced grandly before standing up. ““Now come, the bakery has Hammerlocke buns on Wednesdays. I think we have both earned one today, don’t you?”

The next day Opal had to make a trip to Hulbury for business. Having a short chat with Nessa was grand. Meeting with Chairman Rose and Oleana was not.

“You aren’t participating in the Champion’s Cup this year, Ms. Opal?” Rose asked for the third time over their light seafood luncheon. Opal nearly snorted in exasperation- did the man think she was deaf? Beside her Nessa awkwardly picked at her paella.

“No, Chairman, I’ll be too busy training my apprentice. Potential apprentice, mind, we have a good deal of work to do before I feel ready to hand over my title,” Opal added when she saw that spark of interest in Rose’s eyes. Oleana’s, too. Like she’d let them get their mitts on Bede again! She was already working to undo the damage they caused: the arrogance, the defensiveness, the certainty that he was unwanted-

“An apprentice?! You found one?!” Nessa asked excitedly, dropping her fork into her plate. “Is it Gloria? She answered all your questions, didn’t she? Or is it Hop? He didn’t really strike me as a fairy type but you never know- I know! You convinced Piers to take over, didn’t you? That’s why he’s leaving, isn’t he? He’s filling in for you, Ms. Opal!”

“My my, you’ve already gotten it all planned out, Nessa dear,” Opal mused. “Quite the investigative reporter! But no, none of the above. A bit of a dark Rapidash, my apprentice. Stumbled across them, really, but they are just what the gym needs.”

“I’ll get with Raihan! We’ll plan a welcome party,” Nessa promised excitedly. “When you’re ready, of course.” Her enthusiasm was admittedly infectious, and Opal wished she could share her own excitement- Bede was talented and had such potential, after all. But she wasn’t going to play her hand just yet, and Bede ought to decide when he made his debut. So Opal smiled graciously and patted Nessa’s hand.

“That’s a kind offer, my dear. We’ll let you know when we’re ready,” she said.

“A shame that this is all so sudden. We could have introduced them this year, had we known. It wouldn’t take much work to rearrange a few things, and we’re already waiting for Piers to hand over Spikemuth to his sister,” Rose said cheerfully. Oleana sighed and typed something into her Rotom phone.

“It can be done, Chairman, if Ms. Opal agrees,” Oleana said mildly. Opal narrowed her eyes and let out a mild cough. Truly, did these two ever listen?

“Which I don’t. You can’t rush art, Chairman, and my apprentice isn’t ready to take the stage just yet,” Opal insisted. “Have the cup, and we’ll see about next year’s challenge.”

“They really must be something to marvel at,” Rose replied. Opal chuckled and drank from her glass of water.

“Indeed they are,” she agreed.

Chairman Rose and Oleana left immediately after lunch with a hasty “so much to do, my apologies!” Nessa escorted Opal to the Corvicab pickup lot, chatting all the while.

“I know it’s the finest restaurant in the city, but my mum and I can make a better paella. I think even Leon cooks a better one, and he’s not even coastal!” Nessa complained. Opal chuckled.

“Perhaps we can make it a competition, or have a potluck. I’m an old hand at baking, myself, and I hear Gordie plays a good bartender. Gets it from his mum, he does,” Opal remarked.

“Where’d you hear that?” Nessa asked, blue eyes round with curiosity.

“A lady never reveals her sources, Nessa dear. It was lovely to see you, you made an unbearable luncheon enjoyable,” Opal added as the Corviknight flapped down to the ground.

“Ms. Opal! I thought ladies were supposed to be polite!” Nessa gasped in mock surprise.

“I’m too old for niceties,” she replied with a wave of her hand as she entered the cab. “Ta for now!”

The kitchen looked like a bomb went off inside the flour jar. Flour dusted every surface, every counter, the table, and the three figures standing sheepishly in the middle of it all.

“We… were baking,” Bede explained, gesturing towards the mountain of mixing bowls and spoons in the sink. “It’s in the oven now.”

“So I see,” she replied. And smell, Opal added privately. Despite the disaster in her kitchen, the smell was positively divine. The scent of sugary shortcrust and almonds wafted in the air. Opal looked over at Alcremie, who observed as Hattrem whisked icing sugar and water together in a bowl. The two pokémon were streaked with flour, but Bede was coated in it. At least he had the sense to wear an apron, Opal thought with some amusement as she shuffled into the kitchen and set her bag and umbrella down on the seat.

“It smells lovely, Bede. What an excellent idea,” she said, and the little quirk of a smile on his face was like a sunbeam to her soul.

“You said you liked Wedgehurst tart, and I found the recipe in here,” Bede said, pulling out Opal’s battered copy of “Mrs. Potter’s Collection of Galarian Cookery: 3rd Edition.” He pointed to the page with the recipe.

“The recipe says that a traditional tart has wacan berry jam, but Alcremie picked pecha instead,” Bede added.

“A slightly unusual tart for a slightly unusual day, then,” Opal replied. The timer went off and Bede hastily removed the tart from the oven and set it on a wire rack.

“Wait for it to cool before you remove it,” Opal warned. Bede hesitated, then removed his apron and set it on its appropriate hook on the wall.

“How did your meeting in Hulbury go?” he asked

“Well enough,” Opal replied. “Nessa is a dear girl, and the Chairman was willing to accommodate for my absence.” He had tried to pry, of course, as did Oleana, but she fended them off. Bede looked anxious, and his fingers touched the watch around his wrist.

“... did you tell him about me?” he asked gingerly.

“I said I had an apprentice. I thought you might want to reveal yourself in your own time,” Opal said kindly. “Of course, if you want me to call the presses I can do that as well. Your decision.” Goodness, she could just take a picture with the boy on her Rotom and use that Pokegram Milo installed on her phone. It would have the same effect, wouldn’t it?

“... Gloria already knows. She saw everything,” Bede mumbled. “So do Annette and her sisters, and everyone in Ballonlea has guessed by now. It’s not like it’s a secret or something.”

“And yet they haven’t breathed a word, have they? I believe that you have the final say in how you announce your apprenticeship to me, Bede.” Opal questioned. “I’m going to put the kettle on. Do be a dear, Bede, and fetch the tea tin?”

“Which one?” Bede asked, but he was already selecting the roseli berry tea blend that she preferred. “And didn’t you just eat?”

“It’s hard to stomach a meal when you’re warring against three Mandibuzz looking for fresh gossip,” Opal retorted. “And I wouldn’t want your Wedgehurst tart to go to waste.”

“We can just have it for dessert,” Bede suggested as he washed out her tea pot with the painted violets. Arguing was just part of his nature, it seemed. Opal wouldn’t have it any other way.

“A Wedgehurst Tart,” Opal declared, “is best shared fresh with family and friends. Finish up that glaze and we’ll have it for tea time.”

After that day in the Tangle, things went back to their new normalcy. Better than that, truth be told. It was better. Bede took to his training with new zeal, and no longer glumly answered her pop quizzes. He often spat back questions of his own in retaliation. 

“And how old am I, Ms. Opal?”

“Fifteen, boy, but depending on the hour you’re spiritually five or fifty. Chin up! How do you properly greet another gym leader?”

The fire in his spirit was a blessing- it kept her young. She had grown terribly fond of this prickly young man who could barely string together an apology without a grimace but would instead bake a lovely concoction and brew a pot of tea to express his remorse. He was a curious lad, always wanting to know why things were done a certain way or not, and forever pouring over her library of books. A few days earlier she caught him flipping through her photo album from her stage days, turning each page as if it were the delicate wings of a Butterfree.

“Goodness! That costume was monstrous,” Opal commented when he stopped to gape at an image of her in an enormous ball gown. She wore a wig for this production, a giant piled up thing with a little tiara nested in the curls. She took one look at the photograph and remembered the heat of the stage lights, the weight of the fabric, the way the waxed floors smelled of lemon… and for one moment she heard that bit of silence right before the audience burst into applause, the hitch, the gasp that asked ‘is there more?’

You always left an audience wanting more.

“Pygmalion. A stage production, of course. It was a musical. Between the layers and the makeup I felt like a cake,” Opal continued. “This does bring back memories.” Goodness, she looked so young and glamorous. She still was glamorous, of course, but it was strange to see herself as a young woman again.

“Pygmalion. That has the one song, doesn’t it? The…” Bede hesitantly hummed a tune, and Opal laughed. _All I want is a room somewhere…_

“Yes, Bede, the one song. This was my debut as a leading lady, you know. After this I took all sorts of roles on the stage. After my mother died I turned to running the gym,” Opal sighed. “A stage is a stage, Bede, but there is nothing quite like putting on a costume and playing pretend in front of the whole world.”

“Were you nervous?” he asked.

“Of course! I had nightmares for weeks leading up to opening night,” Opal confided. “But I knew I would hate myself forever if I didn’t muscle through the fear.”

Overall, things were going exactly as they should: Bede was learning and thriving, and Opal felt more certain in her choice of apprentice than she ever had before. Yet there were some moments when she wondered if taking the boy in was good for him. Sometimes he glanced at the telly and glowered at the latest news about the Champion’s Cup. He watched as Gloria blazed through the gyms with her team and scowled. He looked at the gleaming Rose Stadium in Wyndon with envy, and Opal wondered if she should have let him chase after this dream- it was what he wanted, after all. But not, she added sourly, what Bede needed. He needed a good foundation and building up, not the sort of berry on a string that Rose dangled before him.

But Opal knew Bede (was certain she knew Bede, the boy was so like her), and she knew that this peaceful moment wouldn’t last. He wouldn’t say what he’s thinking, but her boy was planning something. She knew that look, the way his eyes lit up when he had an idea. He was up to something, and Opal was determined to find out what. Unfortunately, life got in the way. There was so much to teach Bede, after all, and he was so eager to learn that she pushed her questions aside until she found that letter on the kitchen table the morning of the Champion’s Cup Final.

_Ms. Opal,_

_In Wyndon to settle some business. Will return soon._

_Bede_

Opal read the letter. Re-read it. She dropped it on the table and hustled up the stairs, instinctively hopping over that creaky step until she reached Bede’s room. She pushed the half-cracked open door inwards and peered into the bedroom.

Tidy. Bede’s clothes were all picked up and put away. His gray sport rucksack wasn’t in the room. He must have taken it, Opal thought as she stepped further in and observed the subtle but significant changes to the place.

He pulled out a different quilt from the linen closet, a geometric, modern pattern composed of purples of all shades and hues. It lay spread out on the bed like a flower field. A very flat, perfectly arranged flower field, with nary a hill or valley in sight. Weren’t teenagers supposed to be messy? The desk had several stacks of books arranged on its surface. Opal saw the books she gave him as study material on the far right stack. The center stack looked like Bede’s own selections from her library, and she chuckled at the little sticky notes Bede placed inside her recipe book. It was tempting to see what he bookmarked, to see if he had written anything, but she didn’t indulge her curiosity. Bede was in Wyndon, no doubt sneaking into the Champion’s Cup at this very moment, and while she should have expected this of someone as tenacious as Bede Opal was worried. Very worried.

He wasn’t ready, she thought as she scanned the room again: quilt, books, shelf full of little objects his pokémon found. Gifts, he explained once when Hattrem (now evolved into a gloriously elegant Hatterene) handed him a milk colored pebble. You never spurned a gift, especially from fairies. Bede was wise. Clever, too, but had he grown enough to avoid the pitfalls and temptations that lay ahead in Wyndon? Would he be able to stand strong and apply what he had learned here in Ballonlea to whatever trials lay ahead of him? Would he run back to Rose and Oleana the moment he spotted them? Would he leave everything- Ballonlea, the gym, her, behind? She could always find another apprentice, Opal reasoned even as a lump grew in her throat, but Bede had ruined her expectations for anyone else. She’d compare every other trainer to that violet eyed, scowling boy who didn’t know how to apologize. He was difficult, true, but he was her boy and that was that. Opal looked over the room again: desk, bed, chair with Bede’s coat slung over the back, shelf full of treasures, side table-

The chair! Opal whipped her head back to the chair so quickly her neck ached.

Bede left his coat behind. Opal scanned the room again, taking it in with fresh eyes: there were books that Bede hadn’t read yet but clearly intended to on his desk. The coat he treasured was hanging on the back of his chair. That hideous, over-sized watch sat on the bedside table. The gifts from his pokémon were lined up in a neat row like trophies. The knot in her stomach eased, then undid itself completely. Opal shuffled out of the room and shut the door gently behind her.

“Nothing to worry about, after all,” she murmured, then she marched downstairs to turn on the telly and see what surprises the Champion’s Cup had in store.

She watched every semi-final battle with Alcremie by her side, searching for a glimpse of Bede in the crowd shots. He wasn’t there, but Opal knew he would show up. But when? She watched as the other trainers pushed through the semi-finals, and was surprisingly delighted that Gloria managed to stay on top with her team.

“Talented trainer, that girl,” Opal informed Alcremie. “Might just kick Leon off his podium, if she gets past Raihan.” Alcremie trilled in what Opal assumed was agreement, and the two turned their attention back to the important thing: looking for Bede in the crowd.

But of course he wasn’t there. Bede was dramatic, just like her, and as Gloria took the field to begin her step by step slog to the finals he appeared from the shadows to challenge her to a final match with everything on the line- his career, his ambitions, everything. And, oh, Opal’s heart nearly burst with pride when he did it, all bravado and raw determination and sarcasm and everything that was Bede. And when he battled (cheeky little brat borrowed Mawile!), it was glorious! He had learned a trick or two from her, after all, and he put on a show.

“Even if he does give up and go back home, we’ve accomplished something with him, Alcremie. Our light kidnapping turned out for the best, don’t you agree?” Opal murmured as Bede smiled- truly smiled!- right before sending Rapidash to the field. And even when he lost the crowd saw what she saw, what she always saw, in Bede. Greatness.

The rest of the matches were a blur- Opal was a little preoccupied with being proud of Bede and wondering if she should scold him for “borrowing” Mawile from her. If he had asked Opal would have lent her to him! But Bede wasn’t one to ask permission. Or forgiveness, for that matter.

“Perhaps a test on etiquette is overdue,” Opal mused as Gloria’s Cinderace finally toppled Raihan’s Duraludon to the ground. She caught sight of Bede sitting in the stands next to Marnie and Hop, who were both cheering wildly. While the camera was quick to move on to other shots (the crowd, Raihan’s surprised smile, Gloria’s excited grin), Opal noticed the tiny upward quirk to Bede’s mouth and chuckled. Too proud to cheer and shout, but even he was excited by the results of the match. She could see it in his eyes. One more match, one more outcome, and then- well, who knew what lay ahead? 

That was when the earth trembled and shook under her sofa as Chairman Rose’s face flashed on the monitor, and he cheerfully announced the end of the world before the screen flickered and went blank. The Dynamax node in the field at Wyndon flared to life as the earthquake rattled the furniture in her living room. Opal sighed and turned off the telly.

“He certainly has a flair for the dramatic, doesn’t he?” Opal grumbled to Alcremie. “Come on, dear, we’ll use the old air raid siren. Enough people remember the protocol, I’m sure.”

After the town was safely evacuated, Opal stationed herself outside of the gym with her pokémon at the ready. Nothing had happened beyond the Dynamax hot spot going wild, but one did not take any chances. She waited. Waited. Annette came by with a thermos of tea before heading back to the emergency camp in Glimwood Tangle. More waiting. Opal almost wished something would happen to cut through the tense waiting. A morbid mind. She had always had a morbid mind.

“Ms. Opal! Ms. Opal, you’re still here?!” Bede shouted as he raced across the cobblestone street to reach her. His fairy floss hair was wind ruffled and his face pinched with panic, and by the time he stood in front of her he was panting with exhaustion. Opal smiled and patted his cheek.

“Of course,” she replied easily. “Someone has to keep watch in case a wild pokémon gets caught up in that mess. Safety first, Bede.” 

“I- I can manage it. You should evacuate,” Bede insisted. “It isn’t safe!”

“Of course it isn’t. But I’m a gym leader and you’re my apprentice. We’ll stay right here until the danger has passed,” Opal said firmly. “You may even use Mawile on your team. You’re welcome.”

Bede flushed bright red and mumbled something as he shuffled to her side. Opal raised one eyebrow expectantly. _Oration, Bede._ Just one more lesson for the future, she thought. Bede cleared his throat and spoke.

“You let me borrow her before. I should’ve asked for your permission, but you’d have stopped me,” Bede said, which was the firm non-apology Opal anticipated. “And I didn’t even beat her in the end. It was all for nothing.” He looked a bit glum at that, as if he was waiting for a blade to fall on his head.

“Pssh, nonsense,” Opal snorted. “My dear boy, you were _magnificent_.”

Bede’s shocked, pleased expression was better than any Wedgehurst tart or fairy gift.

“Welcome home, Bede. You’ve done Ballonlea proud,” Opal added warmly, and if Bede sniffled a little and wiped his eyes on his sleeve? Well, there was no one else to say it did or didn’t happen, was there? It was just the two of them, their pokémon, and perhaps the fairies, the Fair Folk who saw all sorts of things from their secret places.

“It’s good to be home, Ms. Opal,” Bede confessed shyly.

“And it’s good to have you home,” Opal replied. “Once we’re done with this bit of nonsense, we’ll wash up. We’re overdue for tea.”

The fae are not to be trifled with. They walk in the twilight, in the in-between places, and they do not suffer fools. Walk their paths if you must, speak with them if you dare, but do not trick the tricksters, the wily ones, the Fair Folk, for it will turn as bad as bad can be for you, for the Fair Folk are wily and clever and always playing their games. The Fair Folk are tricksters of the highest order, Opal thought, but if they played a trick on her by putting Bede in her path then she was glad to have been played. When they finally returned home, Opal set the kettle on the burner, stuffed the tea leaves into the Lapras tea infuser, and waited for her boy to come to the table and tell her about his day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and giving my first foray into another fandom a chance!
> 
> Come and wonder with me at the implications of Pokemon WWII. We can wonder if The Great Galarian Bake-Off would be a thing and if Mr. Brightside would still exist in the Pokemon universe and be on the Galarian Top 100. Would "My Fair Lady" also have Pokemon actors? Yes? I sure hope so!


End file.
